Whisper in a Graveyard
by Abby Ebon
Summary: For Chaos Silk. wincest, slash, Dean x Sam. At six months, Sammy swallowed demon blood. It went dormant. After saving Dean, Sammy’s demonic nature awakens, and the boys find that there is more to demons then they thought.
1. Cheating Death

**Whisper in a Graveyard**

_Abby Ebon_

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

_Warning_s; this story involves elements of slash – which is, to put it bluntly, written homosexual romance. In other words – incest, meaning the sexual bonding of two blood related brothers, will be involved.

If you are uncomfortable with such material – or are too underage to read it – I plead with you to leave this story alone – I do not want to suffer for your company, merely press the 'back' button and go about your usual activities. That being said – on top of being slash and incest, this involves manipulation – deceit, and incubus-like demons. Oh – and it's kind of dark too.

Well that covers everything – save that I'm not responsible for you not reading the above warnings and finding all this out as you read. That being said – enjoy.

Oh, before you start, be assured - Dean is not going to die.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

"_Cheating Death_"

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Dean was laid out in the coffin – they'd dressed him up in a suit – the one he'd always referred to as "the Fed get-up"- Dean had hated it. But… both brothers had long ago agreed that it was far better to wear it - and be trusted by those who were otherwise inclined to not be trustful of them – then to risk taking the days, and lives, to find out what they could have learned by questioning a witness from the start of a case.

Sam had thought – had been sure – that only a moment ago he had been alone in the graveyard – dusk had long ago settled over it, he _should_ have been alone. But these little things he knew didn't match up – little bits of reason tugged at his attention in the midst of tormented, if silent, emotions.

One thing Sam knew – was _sure_ of – was that Dean had ordered long ago he be cremated – therefore there shouldn't be a body for Sam to look down at. Also, though he wasn't as sure about this as the other bit was that the caretakers would have _insisted_ to shutting the casket and burying it long before now – at least before sunset. That was something of a superstition, something of modern "business hours" for the undertakers.

Even so, Sam found he could not pull his eyes from his brother's clam face. It was too healthy looking, Sam had seen dead people before – they were pasty, having no 'life' to them – but with Dean… it wasn't like that. It was like – for all he _was_, physically, dead; the demon had trapped the life –the soul - in him… entombed it in his decaying body.

With that painful thought, alike a chill breeze that made Sam shiver, shuddering he dug his hands into the pockets of his long coat, seeking warmth, to be reminded of the life he still carried within himself – for all the good it did him. He noticed then that feeling of not being alone intensified until with wary eyes he looked again around him. Only tombstones, monuments – and freestanding statues greeted his gaze. Overturned earth drew his attention to one of the freestanding statues.

It would have looked like an angel to anyone else. Something about it screamed that it wasn't an angel – fallen or otherwise. With it's closed eyes, and peaceful features of the not long dead, it was draped in robes, with two wings that sprouted seamlessly from its shoulders – each as long as a man was tall – framing the loose stone hair that draped over stone skin and stone shoulders. Its eyes opened – the cold grey lids peeling open to peer at Sam.

The eyes were black, demon black.

A demon with the feathered wings of an angel…the thought was almost laughable. Cold as the stone it had been carved from, those black eyes watched him – and Sam found he could not look away. Slowly, bit by bit – chips of stone fell from the face and though the face changed the eyes stayed the same dead black. Sam inhaled, freed, when those eyes blinked, seeming to release him from those dark depths that went on forever like tunnels to the very core of the earth.

The face it wore was _his_, the same high cheekbones – the very same nose – feeling violated at how very effortless the demon had seemed to change into his own likeness, Sam swallowed back his anger – unthinking emotions would get him killed swiftly. Though there was now something about death that was no longer so terrifying, so awful – perhaps it was that he felt depressed, but death didn't seem so bad in the face of his brothers death.

The demon tilted its face to look down at Dean.

It shouldn't have been here. Not among the dead of the graveyard – not standing beside his brother's grave marker. It seemed to mock him – to mock what Sam thought he could not change. Abruptly, the face of the demon – Sam's face – looked up at him again, caught and held his gaze, and for the first time spoke.

"_You can change this_." It hissed the words at him, and though Sam was startled, he did not move away – did not cover his ears. The features looked pitying, thoughtful.

"_You do not have to watch him die_." Just when Sam was about to speak – to ask how – to plead with all he was, demand with threats or promises alike just so long as that the demon would tell him all it knew…then, then he heard Dean's voice, as if from afar, calling for him…

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

"_Sammy_ – damn-it, Sam, wake up – we don't have time for this!" Dean exclaimed, tone both frustrated and worried as he hovered over his brother – Dean gripped Sam by the shoulders, his fingers digging into the skin – a reaction to the fear gnawing at Dean.

Sam's eyes fluttered open, awake and as aware as he could be coming out of a nightmare – when his puzzled gaze met his brothers worried one, Dean exhaled – letting his worry fall away from him. Sam scrunched up his nose, having smelt Dean's sour morning breath. Dean, though he had showered, had likely been in too great of a hurry to brush his teeth.

Dean noticed his reaction, but only snorted, muttering a soft, "_served you right, sleeping beauty_" which Sam did not think he was supposed to have heard. Restlessly, he pulled the rest of the bedding off himself, going into the bathroom to at least attempt to look as if he hadn't dropped out of college – Dean could pull off the "just got out of bed" look – Sam _knew_ he couldn't.

"What's the rush?" Sam asked, having remembered hearing the last part of what Dean had said as he had awoken – his voice echoed oddly in the bathroom. He was still getting used to the fact that in any hotel you could hear your neighbors through the bathroom wall.

"Well, according to the newspapers, California is having more then its usual amount of monsters." Dean stated as he moved about in the other room, packing up their things. Usually Sam would argue in being able to do his own share of work – partly out of guilt, partly because Dean had the habit of picking up after Sam, but he wasn't going to argue the point when Dean wanted to rush.

"Oh? What've you got?" Sam asked while he was running a comb through his hair, when he glanced out of the bathroom door – clothed only in the boxers he had slept in, Dean grunted and – having not even glanced in his direction, threw Sam some of his somewhat-clean clothes. The hotel may have had a washer and dryer available – but it cost almost half of what the room had to do more then two loads of clothes, and gas being what it was it was both a place to sleep and gas money, or smell soapy and no gas money – they chose the gas money.

"Put those on, there clean enough," Dean told him sternly after seeing Sam's look of distaste – even at college, Sam hadn't gone a week without washing his clothes properly – he was learning, as Dean put it – "to live on the road" – Sam just wasn't sure he wanted to finish learning that 'lesson', "while you were making like sleeping beauty, I tracked where the victims died in relation to each other. Get this, they are dying in a pattern – like a giant summoning for a demon, only a wide scale...circle. I suspect that there's a demon hopping around from body to body killing the people it's inhabiting in that pattern, only we've got to hurry only two more bodies are needed to complete the summoning – and I, for one, don't want to know what's going to be called up from the depths of hell to have a ritual like that."

Dean made the gesture for a demon-summoning circle they both were all too familiar with. Sam sniffed at the shirt Dean had thrown at him. Tugging on a pair of jeans first, he set the shirt aside. Amused, Dean only watched him – waiting for him to ask a question.

"Do we know _why_ a demon would want to summon up something bigger then it is?" Sam asked unable to help his curiosity, after deciding the shirt was as good as he was going to get and pulling it on.

"No idea – but it can't mean anything good." Dean had waited till he heard Sam close the bathroom door before looking again to his younger brother. There was a glint of excitement in Dean's eyes – he loved being on the hunt, lived for it.

That was why Sam knew he couldn't ask Dean to spend his final year safe – Dean wanted to take as many of the monsters out before he was taken in turn. Sam had chosen only to follow him – he had no doubts that Dean could, if needed, do this on his own. Sam didn't want that though – he didn't want to die, true enough, but his brother deserved better then to die in the grip of a monster – or, worse, alone.

"The dream you had give us any clues to what we might be looking for?" Dean asked him in turn, Sam took a moment to mentally shake away the thoughts that clouded his mind like a fog. The dream – he hadn't forgotten it – how could he? But Sam didn't yet think it was important – just a wish, just his subconscious seeking a way out of the impossible situation they had found themselves in.

Before he could say as much he noticed Dean had gone out the door. Without pause, before Dean came back around after collecting the weapons (he'd likely taken those out first – then the food, and then would come the clothes) - Sam stripped out of his jeans and pulled up another, darker, pair – the pair Dean knew Sam only wore when there was likely to be bloodshed.

"No – nothing helpful, just a normal dream I suppose." Sam answered reluctantly – whenever he answered in a negative to the 'visions question', he always felt as if he had let Dean down somehow.

"Too bad – could have used the help." Dean teased lightheartedly, and Sam could only shrug – as it was, he felt guilty. Dean did not mean to, but he only rubbed it in that, in regards to what they did – Dean had the most experience. Dean seemed to sense all was not well with Sam and he paused in the doorway – the strap of his own day-bag swung over his shoulder, he had obviously seen something in Sam's expression that he hadn't expected. Something that Sam felt every time they did this – and tried more desperately each time to hide. His fear…

"We'll do fine on our own Sammy – we always do." Dean spoke awkwardly – it was as close to comforting as Sam could ask – and in some way, it did, at least, settle his nervous stomach.

He wanted to ask Dean if his own feelings of nerves energy, and the nearly choking surge of adrenalin, would ever really go away. He didn't – he merely nodded, snatched up his day-bag, and followed Dean out of the hotel room – feeling as if he was, even now, hiding things from his elder brother.

No matter how stupid it was – as a kid Sam had made a habit of telling, and asking, Dean of everything he had witnessed and thought. It had become a habit that annoyed Dean in later years, but some habits were hard to break. Trusting in Dean was not one he intended to.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

In the pre-dawn hours they arrived, most of the hotels having too much of a price tag, they'd already decided to sleep in the car, taking turns on the sight of the next 'marker' –it was all too likely the place someone would die, soon.

Dean had volunteered to take the first three hour shift.

Sam was jerked awake – but not reasonably alert - by Dean's yell. Usually, Dean would have waited, he didn't this time. Sam didn't blame him – the girl was no more then ten, and held a hunting knife over her own wrist. Her eyes were entirely black – a mark of the demon inhabiting her, they looked to the car – as if daring Sam and Dean to interfere. They did more then dare.

In Sam's rush to leave the car, to go after Dean, who had already gone ahead; his foot caught in the door. Sam landed hard on the pavement, gravel digging into his palms as he jerked his leg, trying to tear the bottom part of his jeans that was stuck. Sam struggled – his attention divided, between keeping an eye out for any sign of Dean's movements in the dark – and freeing himself; he was too late to do more then see the aftermath of what happened next.

Finally managing to rip himself free of being caught - fear glittered in Sam's eyes as he looked up – only too meet the demons bleak eyes. Sam swallowed hard, managing to choke down the sob that caught in his throat – Dean had tried to save the girl. Dean had gambled on Sam being a distraction as he approached from behind the little possessed girl.

Even in that – Sam had failed, the girl had likely spun around as only a demon could – surprising Dean. He took a stumbling step away from the possessed little girl. A hunting knife was sheathed inside his brother's gut. Dean's eyes were wide – startled, as he looked up from all the blood on his hands - even running down his shirt.

"Sammy…" Dean gasped softly- his brothers blue eyes meeting Sam's brown, regret and guilt twisted his brother's features.

Sickened by the sight, Sam rushed to get up off the ground and get to his brother– unknowingly; he limped his way to Dean. Not feeling the pain past his fear for his brother. Sam managed to get to Dean before he fell farther then onto his knees. Sam was shaking, watching with blurred eyes as his brother was dying in his arms.

He couldn't do anything – he was helpless, Dean was dying – and it hadn't even been the end of the cursed year he had gambled away to save Sam. The girl made a raspy choking noise, he looked up at her, surprised – he had forgotten about her in the onslaught of emotions rushing through him – she was….was _giggling_.

Sam's arms were wrapped around his brother, his hands clenched on the handle of the blade – it was slick with blood, and slippery with the sweat of Sam's own skin – Dean kept trying to pull it out – but…but that would surely do more damage then help, wouldn't it?

"_You can change this_." The little girl spoke, whisper soft – echoing the words of the winged demon that wore his face in the graveyard in his dreams. Chilled and torn, for he knew that a demon deal alone would not save Dean, who dealt with demons too much to be affected by their powers any longer. Especially with a life debt hanging over his head – that Sam knew – even if the demon offered, it could not save Dean.

"_You do not have to watch him die_." The possessed girl insisted – just as the demon that was himself had.

"How can I – or you - save him then?" Sam shouted at her – so fed up with words that echoed eerily the dream of Dean being dead in a graveyard. Sam thought he remembered seeing a graveyard coming into the city – why had it taken him till now to put the two together? It had been a warning – and Sam had dismissed it.

"_Embrace what you are_." Sam shook with realization at her words, he _knew_ she meant for him to 'embrace' the demonic 'gift'; the demonic blood dripped into his mouth on the very day his mother died.

"_Become a demon in part…then you will have the power to heal him_…" The demon possessing the girl promised. Sam looked down at his brother, Dean couldn't tell him to do this – or not to – this would wholly be Sam's own choice. Dean had made a deal for Sam's life with a demon – could he live with Sam being, at least in part - a demon?

Sam clenched his jaw – feeling as if he had already made up his mind. If it saved Dean, it was worth falling into darkness.

"Show me how." Sam pleaded with her – not looking at the possessed girl, having only the will to look into Dean's eyes which begged him not to do what they both knew Sam had agreed to. Sam didn't know what was going to happen to him – was he going to become the super-solider the demons had wanted?

Or…or was he going to become something else entirely?

It was too late to second guess the motives of the demon that possessed the little girl – he felt the presence of the demon within her next to him. Could see, out of the corner of his eye, that the girl was right there – in his face – there was no taking it back – because Sam wanted …no, _needed_ to save Dean's life.

The girl sighed softly, the demon releasing her, Sam did nothing as he heard the girls body slump to the pavement – for all he knew, the demon had already killed her. He could not help but partly blame her for his brother's swiftly chilling body.

Darkness, the essence of a demon without physical form, fanned out above them – bloating out the sky and stars. It was too thick to be smoke, yet was made up of thicker and darker stuff then the night sky around them. With malevolence it swirled into a cork-screw shape, and Sam knew all too well what it wanted.

It wanted him to submit, to arch his neck - lift his head, open his mouth, and let the darkness within…

Sam struggled with himself, he wanted to save Dean, more then anything…but…it was not knowing if the demon would possess him long term, not knowing any number of things that made him hesitate for the moment it took to see the hope in Dean's eyes. The hope that he would let Dean die…

Sam closed his eyes – like it or not, he was about to find out – if only to save Dean. His brother wouldn't die – not like this.

Dean watched in horror as his little brother, the little brother he had sworn to his father to protect, closed his eyes, looking almost peaceful with the resolve he found to accept the demons offer - to let it within him – to help him awaken something Dean feared. He regretted then, not telling his brother the whole truth of what their father had told Dean long ago.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

"Dean, there's something you've got to know." John Winchester mumbled the words into his son's ear. He was dyeing and he knew it – he had traded his life, his soul, for his eldest boy. It was happening now, and there was no stopping it, the one thing he had asked for was to be given a chance to see Dean with his own eyes. Deals were tricky like that, he hadn't looked Dean full in the face yet, keeping his eyes to the side or only taking in one feature – but once he looked him whole in the face, he was dead.

"Dad…" Dean choked the words out – almost a sob, and John tried not to feel guilty for being selfish enough not to want to see his own flesh and blood die before him. A father wasn't supposed to bury his sons before he died. Hard enough that his wife, his Mary, had died before him, he couldn't live with one of his boys dead.

"Sammy swallowed demon blood at six months." John felt Dean tense up, he'd taught Dean what it meant when someone swallowed demon blood. It was the one area in training that Sam lacked. It meant one of two things – after a year old, it meant that the person would be drawn to darkness, twisted to it. Before a year old it meant that there was a fifty-fifty chance of either death, or the person became a demon, if the dormant blood was triggered.

"Protect him, but if he turns – kill him, family will always be the Winchester weakness."

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

This had been a trap, Dean knew – the entire thing, all to lure Sam to this place. All to make sure his dormant demon blood was triggered. There was nothing Dean could do – he couldn't even kill Sam before it happened, he was too weak from blood loss. To paralyzed with a pain that would spill his guts out of his knife wound.

Sam tilted his head back, exposing his throat – submitting to becoming possessed. His mouth opening as Dean watched, a tear sliding down his cheek as the darkness that had been swirling above them shoved its way down Sammy's mouth, stiffening his limbs.

Dean mouthed his brother's name, a whisper "Sammy". It was an apology, it was shame – it was fear, it was hope. Hope, that even though the possession would quicken the dormant demonic blood into awakening, there was still hope that Sammy would still be Sammy, even though his nature would be a demons.

Dean closed his eyes, praying, even as he lay prone in a pool of his own blood, dying. Blurrily he saw Sammy look down at him with demon silver eyes – those eyes held something, warmth. Life. Sam.

"…have to want to live, please, Dean…live…want you to live…don't leave…"

Dean exhaled shakily, his dying breath, in his last moment he knew what his choice would be.

Life.

Dean screamed as Sam brought him back to life, screamed as his skin knitted itself back together, as internal bleeding reversed itself he moaned, wondering if coming back to life would always make him long for death. Surely death would be less painful. Dean closed his eyes and let himself fall into sleep; he thought it ironic that it might be as close to death as he would ever get with Sam hovering over him until the end of days.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

_Rank of Demons._

_Black Eyes – _Lowest, often servants of the Greater Demons. They can possess and kill. Their intent is to draw blood or put a person or persons into a chaotic emotional state pending depression or death, often that "personal demon" of victim.

_Red Eyes_ – Favored Servants, these are often Crossroad demons who directly serve a Greater Demon. Many victims through "deals" with humans act often as "between" for Greater Demons.

_Yellow Eyes_ – High Rank, whose intent is usually to inflict chaos upon _civilizations_; feeds on the _emotional_ act of destruction, death, chaos, or deals.

Silver Eyes – High Rank, Greater Demon/Legendary. While this rank, unlike the others, does not need to "feed" on death or emotion, their nature is twisted so they perform such acts for amusement or long-term plans. Manipulators, can often inflict death or destruction on a whim. "Born" demons, where one parent was either a demon, or at six months as humans they were tainted by demon blood. Long memories, even so there has not been a newly born Silver Eyes since before biblical account. Weakness is in their "youth" (after blood quickening, before power mastery) are subject to the whim of their "nature" (what their power will favor); such as killing sprees, orgies, wars, earthquakes, floods, fires – and so forth and so on.


	2. Waking With Demons

**Whisper in a Graveyard**

_Abby Ebon_

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Note; I have re-vamped pervious chapter, please re-read.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

"_Waking With Demons"_

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

…_Previously…_

Dean closed his eyes, praying, even as he lay prone in a pool of his own blood, dying. Blurrily he saw Sammy look down at him with demon silver eyes – those eyes held something, warmth. Life. Sam.

"…have to want to live, please, Dean…live…want you to live…don't leave…"

Dean exhaled shakily, his dying breath, in his last moment he knew what his choice would be.

Life.

Dean screamed as Sam brought him back to life, screamed as his skin knitted itself back together, as internal bleeding reversed itself he moaned, wondering if coming back to life would always make him long for death. Surely death would be less painful. Dean closed his eyes and let himself fall into sleep; he thought it ironic that it might be as close to death as he would ever get with Sam hovering over him until the end of days.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

A shiver raised goose bumps along his skin, but Sam bit his lip as he ignored it, curling his warmth around his big brother. He had succeeded only in dragging Dean to his car, then Dean had become icy cold – but there was still something alive within his brother, and Sam clung to it in his need. The knife wound had healed while Dean had screamed and thrashed in his arms.

Still, Sam wondered why Dean hadn't woken – why he didn't seem to be getting any better. Sam glanced once to the mirror it reflected Sam…with silvered eyes. His heart thumped in his chest.

"_You must feed off him_." It was Sam's lips that had moved, but Sam knew it wasn't he who had spoken. His body felt flushed – hot, and it confused him that instead of warming Dean, Dean seemed to be chilled instead.

"How?" Sam spoke his question aloud, not wanting to learn if the demon within him could listen to his thoughts. He felt its amusement – felt it regard him as a child, and knew he didn't care so long as it answered him.

"_You will become a primal demon, Sam Winchester, but, for right now you are merely …powerful_." Sam shuddered as he saw with the demons eyes the destruction and chaos he could cause – what it meant by "merely powerful", just as what he knew what it meant by a "primal demon". A demon that did not need to feed on fear or death, a demon that could threaten the balance of life and death and walk away unscathed. A demon that could seduce – could twist – could do whatever it pleased on a whim. That, the demon which inhabited him knew, was the demon – a primal demon – which it wished to ally itself with.

"_Power is not enough, not nearly enough. You are being reborn,_ _Sam Winchester, and you must Chose."_ Sam felt his heart tighten painfully within his chest when he tried to gasp for air. It was as if he could not get enough – not nearly enough, for he knew then he was suffocating, slowly – painfully.

"Chose…chose what…?" Sam gasped the words out between the beats of his heart and the gasps of breath he managed to satisfy.

"_To be what you were born to be – to embrace it, chose your companion. It can be me – it can be your brother, it can be someone dead - there are no limits to what your chosen can be. But you must choose - your very life, and pending, depend upon it_." Sam's mind whirled with the onslaught of images. A primal demon, like Sam would become, did not need to fear if its name was known, did not need to feed upon fear or death – though they could kill with a though - though they often went by an alias, what they did fear was their chosen being known.

Their chosen mortal was kept as alive and healthy as the day they were chosen – they could, of course, learn new skills and gain power with the link a primal demon gave them, but, essentially they were the key to the primal demons power. A chosen could not die so long as the primal demon lived, but, the chosen could be broken, and if the chosen was broken – so too was the primal demon, in all the ways that mattered to other demons. A chosen could cripple a primal demon if broken, for thereafter, the primal demon would be in agony caring for their chosen, dotting upon them, uncaring of time or life.

The demon within Sam had seen that happen.

"How…do I…" Sam felt the life leaving him as he could not get enough air- could not breath, and every beat of his heart and lungful of air brought such agony that he knew he was dyeing and was terrified by it.

"_You will be a primal demon – bow to your greatest want, it unlocks your power – let your power chose your companion_." The demon told him in a rush, eager for him to live, or to die – for if he died Sam knew the other demon would feed upon his death – feed upon the death of his brother. It was already feeding upon his fear. If he lived, there was a good chance the demon would be his chosen – but Sam _did not_ want that – and being a primal demon was all about _want_.

Sam gazed down at Dean's peaceful features, his vision blurring along the edges as he felt himself fading. _I want us safe._ Sam's fingers clung onto the sleeve of his brother's shirt. _I will make us safe_. With his thought, he felt the pain in his heart ease, as if something had righted itself within him.

Dean, warm to the touch with his choice, gasped – his own lungs filling with life-giving air and his heart – Sam could hear the rhythmic thumps and knew he would never grow tired of the sound – the beat a mirror of Sam's own. Dean's astonished blue eyes met his, and Sam found himself smiling – exhausted, but pleased with himself.

Sleepily he tucked his head beneath Dean's chin, his cheek pressed against Dean's collarbone. He felt…happy.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Dean exhaled softly as Sam seemed to slip into sleep against him. He had looked into his brothers eyes – but the warm brown puppy eyes were gone, instead silver had met his gaze, shining silver in the darkness. That could take some getting used to.

But…it wasn't as bad as it could have been, Sam could be gone – again, possessed by some demon out to hurt him. Dean was dealing with an unknown in the demon that now inhabited his little brother. It didn't seem to want to control Sam – instead; quite oddly, it seemed to want to guide him. Dean had known, as he lay dying in Sammy's arms, that there was something going on he didn't understand.

Dean didn't like being out of the loop.

He also didn't like waking up with a boner when he had nearly died. It was a good thing Sammy hadn't noticed. Somehow, Sam had dragged him into the car – his boots touched the passenger door, and his head was far too close for his liking to the steering wheel. The rest of him was covered by Sam's body – snuggling him.

Dean would have protested this position, if not for the fact that he had nearly died, and he knew all too well the craving for touch and reassurance that could bring out. Especially in Sammy, who was often too kind hearted for his own good, and sometimes seeing as they hunted the supernatural, Dean should have known – or at least guessed - that Sammy would eventually need contact to calm down. Still, it surprised him to have Sam's lanky body wrapped around him. Felt good though.

Dean shook his muddled thoughts away like a clinging cobweb. It was then he noticed the frost on the windows. Not fog – _frost_… in _July_.

_When Sammy wakes up,_ Death thought as he drifted off to a slow sleep, _I'm going to have to ask him about frost and the fact I'm not a mattress…_

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Tapping on the window woke them both. Sam blinked up into the face of a police officer. Dean groaned, and Sam could imagine the aches in pains sleeping in the front seat had given his elder brother. It was when Dean seemed to come awake – that Sam realized he was laying on his brother, and what that had to look like to the officer, struggling he disentangled himself. Everything about last night was distant – fuzzy, as if it had been a dream.

Dean pulled himself into a sitting position and rolled down the window, yawning.

"There something we can help you with, officer?" Dean asked, not in the best of moods when just woken. Sam just crossed his fingers and hoped they'd get away with only a fine for indecency.

"One offence is this is a no-parking-after-dark area of the park, second – public indecency, and third on suspicion of blood, holding to the fact that you two are quite adorable snuggling together." The leer directed at Dean made Sam narrow his eyes.

_Mine_…Sam resisted the urge to snarl at the man who seemed so smug at having Dean off balanced. Dean had paled, then flushed, obviously flustered. Dean knew how to handle an officer who was disapproving, but he found himself quite fluttered with one who was _approving_.

"Uh…thanks?" Dean murmured softly, sneaking a pleading glance to Sam who caught his brothers 'is he for real?' expression before a "cool" mask slipped into place.

"Oh, no – _thank you_, I haven't had the pleasure of seeing such free expression of love…" The officer winked a pale blue eye, and Dean's hands clenched and he looked carefully away. It was clear to Sam that his brother was caught between lashing out, and embarrassment.

Sam cleared his throat, gaining the other mans attention with the noise.

"Leave. Walk away, you never saw us." Sam's eyes silvered, and the officer nodded jerkily and he pivoted, seeming unable to get away fast enough. Dean took a shuddering breath, glancing to Sam with curiosity.

"How'd you do that?" Dean asked his gaze distant as he remembered Andy, who had used mind control on Dean to give up his Impala. Not that Sam would do such a thing, in fact the comparison annoyed him, but he bit his tongue, knowing that Dean didn't mean anything by it. It was only a thought.

"I don't know – but what I do know is we have a game of question and answer to play with my guide." Sam stated as he pulled the strap down to buckle up. Dean mimicked him, and then started the car, before he put his foot to the gas; he paused, glancing to the stain of crimson blood on the gravel.

"There was frost on the windows last night." It was more then a meaningless comment to Sam, who bobbed his head in a nod.

"We'll ask about that too, Dean, promise." Sam muttered, feeling suddenly guilty for not confessing his change-of-species. He hadn't just let a demon possess him – he was a demon, and, supposedly – he would be a powerful one.

Sam didn't know how he felt about that – and he didn't want to know how Dean would feel about it.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

"You've got to be kidding me." Sam stated as he stared down at the chalk lines of the circle, a demon circle – that could hold Sam, and the demon within him. Sam didn't want to know if a circle could trap what he was – a primal demon.

"_It can't_." His guide-slash-unwelcome passenger commented.

"Afraid not Sammy, it's the only way we can be sure of its – your, answers." Dean told him in a soft tone. It was as close as his older brother ever came to soothing. Sammy took a breath and walked into the circle, uneasily, he sat down. It was very different being on the other side of the circle. Other then a faint tingling along his skin, he knew it was working.

"Okay, firstly – what do you want?" Dean asked not quite looking Sam in the eye.

"_My name, as far as you are to be concerned, is Ruby, what I want is to guide your brother_." The demon answered, it spoke with Sam's mouth, but as it did so his brown eyes blackened.

"Guide him through what?" Dean demanded, clearly uneasy with the prospect of a demon helping them with anything. Not that Sam blamed him; he wasn't very keen on it himself.

"_The change – he is reborn, and when he has questions, which – I assure you, he will after this – I will answer them to the best of my ability. Sammy is special, Dean, __Azazel – the demon you know as "Yellow Eyes" fed him demon blood. Sam is more then a mere super solider for a demonic army – he will become a primal demon. Of their nature – there is no other word for it. There has not been such a being that has come into their powers as far as Sam has since before the bible was writ_." It was far more of a answer then Dean had expected – he knew demons to be tricky, elusive, but this "Ruby" volunteered far more information then he had asked for.

"There…there is no way of reversing what he did?" Dean asked carefully, this time not wanting a long answer. Sam felt Ruby know that, and respect it – which surprised Sam so much it caught him off guard.

"_No. Not without killing him – and yourself_." It was a message – and warning – to both of the brothers. Though Sam knew what he had done had been to save Dean, he could not say he had not thought of finding a way to reverse it. He knew now he couldn't do that – not if it meant Dean's life. Ruby knew that.

"Why would it kill me?" Dean asked, puzzled by her answer.

"_A primal demon chooses a companion at its rebirth – Sammy chose you Dean, there is no way to undo the bond you two share_." Ruby told them through Sam's lips. There was betrayal in his brother's gaze, yes – but also understanding. Sam knew that if Dean had been in his place, he would have chosen the same path.

"What will Sam's powers be…as a primal demon?" Dean questioned, testing the last words carefully.

"_I can not begin to explain. Everything you have seen is not a match to what his power will be. It will be more then that. Much more_." Ruby promised, and Sam's eyes silvered with his fear. He didn't know if he could be so dangerously powerful. He was a demon – or, at least had become partly a demon, if not completely. Funny thing was, save for his brother not dying, he hadn't done anything remarkable.

He didn't feel evil – he didn't want to kill anyone, being a demon, he supposed, hadn't come with a realization that after death there was anything profound. He didn't know if there was a god – though, obviously there were other – more powerful – demons out there, he didn't know if a fallen angel led them.

What Sam did know was that he was kind of hungry – for pizza, likely meat lovers with an extra handful of olives.

"Dean, it's been a long night…let's just get something to eat." Sam pleaded, tired of his skin tingling – prickling like needles – inside the demonic trap of a circle. Dean merely nodded and before he could walk to the edge of the circle and wipe it clean, Sam had already walked out of it.

Dean's gaze caught his own. There was something uncomfortably like fear in his brother's gaze.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Note; updated in honor of BloodyChaosDragonKnight's b-day, so sorry this has taken so long to write to my liking….


	3. Beware What Hand A Trickster Plays

**Whisper in a Graveyard**

_Abby Ebon_

_Disclaimer: _I do not own Supernatural, neither have I written any of the episodes (though I would like to)…

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

"_Beware What Hand A Trickster Plays" _

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

…_Previously_…

He didn't feel evil – he didn't want to kill anyone, being a demon, he supposed, hadn't come with a realization that after death there was anything profound. He didn't know if there was a god – though, obviously there were other – more powerful – demons out there, he didn't know if a fallen angel led them.

What Sam did know was that he was kind of hungry – for pizza, likely meat lovers with an extra handful of olives.

"Dean, it's been a long night…let's just get something to eat." Sam pleaded, tired of his skin tingling – prickling like needles – inside the demonic trap of a circle. Dean merely nodded and before he could walk to the edge of the circle and wipe it clean, Sam had already walked out of it.

Dean's gaze caught his own. There was something uncomfortably like fear in his brother's gaze.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

"…Sam." There was a warning in his bothers voice, a bit of a command left over from when he had been looking out only for himself. There was fear there too. Sam glanced away, all at once hating him self - and the tension coated fear that would, he felt, might always be there.

"Don't, Dean, just…don't." It was a plea, for Dean to just let things go the way they were. He didn't like having the sort of wary intensity directed toward him. He was tired, and oddly hungry. The fact that he had a demon in his head was secondary. First was that he was some kind of "primal" demon, specially made by demon blood, and woken to the fact when his brother was dying in his arms.

He did not think he'd forgive Ruby that anytime soon, whatever answers she offered.

"Order a pizza would you, Dean? I'm starving." Sam asked, knowing it was the right sort of thing - the normal thing - to say when Dean chuckled. His brother shook his head, even as he walked over to the phone. It was grounded, as whenever they got a chance to stay in a hotel Dean never trusted anything that didn't have a line connecting it to a jack; no matter that he let Sam have his laptop and little "gadgets".

"You weren't the one resurrected from the dead." Dean muttered, though Sam knew he was meant to hear the words, soft as they were. Sam couldn't help but smile. They were both pretending things weren't as bad as it seemed, in that way it was at least reassuring to take the comfort offered.

'_I'm sorry Sam_…' Ruby whispered into his mind, so soft he could almost not hear her – it was as if that was what she hoped – that he wouldn't hear he next words, '_it won't help…the hunger_…' A headache shaped suddenly behind his eyes, as if seeking to blind him. With a fear, he realized what it was.

His hunger had intensified. He was more then starving – he was dying, and it was _painful_.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

"Ah… Sammy? Pizza is here." He'd never heard his brother so hesitant. Still, at least Dean was speaking to him – albeit, though the bathroom door. Sam tried to be positive about it. He couldn't find it in himself to be positive about much – he had a blistering headache - the lights in the bathroom were off, and he only flinched a _little_ when the window placed directly across from the mirror caught headlights from people coming and going in the hotel parking lot.

His muscles were beginning to ache, and when he had raised his hand, his fingers had been trembling. Whatever was going on, his nerves were beginning to become affected. Sam wondered if this was what it was like to be a druggy. Or to be addicted to something then cut off without warning. It hurt. It felt like dying.

'_You aren't dying Sam_…_just give into the hunger – feed…_' That was another thing – Ruby, he had a demon riding inside his head, usually that would mean possession – but, apparently, he was still human. Or not, he was a demon – only a _special_ kind of demon. One that could resurrect the dead; play host to a demon advisor – and got really horrible headaches and shakes when they didn't "feed" on something their natures were inclined to.

Sam had a breaking point – he was close to it. He didn't know what he "needed" – he didn't want to think of what sort of thing his darker nature might demand he "feed" on. Rose couldn't even tell him. Sam sighed softly against the porcelain of the tub he was huddled in. He was fully clothed, but at least he had something cool to rest his forehead against.

"Fantastic." Sam murmured softly, he didn't know if Dean could hear him or not.

"Sam…are you going to come out of the bathroom, or not?" Apparently not, Sam groaned under his breath. He was sore all over; Dean was – if not outright afraid of him, _wary_ – which hurt him like the knife in him had just been pushed in a little deeper then twisted. Sam didn't know what he would do, if he left the bathroom – eat? Eat what – the pizza – or if he started with pizza, would he be able to stop himself from meeting the need he was craving and feeding off it? What would Dean think of him then? Worse – what would Dean do?

"How 'bout _not_." Sam growled out a little louder, the words coming out flat.

"Come on, Sam, tell me what's going on here. Maybe I can help." Sam was tempted to let his head hit the cool porcelain. Then again, his head ached enough _without_ trying to get a concussion.

"Help? Dean – I've got a _headache_, that's it, _alright_?" Sam tried to keep his voice even, and was not quite sure he succeeded. He closed his eyes, on top of the pain – he was tired. He felt distanced from everything around him, as if it was a dream. He was glad for that, because it kept him from feeling the horrible sharpness of his hunger. Like this, he could ignore it – at least for a little while. At least until he decided what to do.

"Whatever you say man." Something in his tone had given him away. Dean wasn't going away, no matter what he said. A part of him – the part that had admired his older brother growing up – was glad for that. Still, it was both aggravating and annoying having his big brother shove into whatever was the matter with him, especially when he felt like this.

That he would do the same for Dean in a heartbeat didn't really matter to him at the moment.

"Come on, Sam, just open the door – take a few slices…feel a little more human again, huh, what do you say?" Dean was _almost_ whining, but the pleading tone was obvious. Sam knew he was worried; it made him feel guilty for being so annoyed with Dean's worry.

"Eloquent as always, Dean." Sam said it just loud enough for Dean to hear as he shifted to sit upright in the tub. He knew Dean – no matter how freaked out – wasn't going away. Dean was still his big brother.

"Sam, open the damn door." Dean had that hard edge to his voice that Sam knew meant he wasn't going to have it any other way but his way. With a sigh, Sam stood up and swung his leg over the tall edge of the tub; making a little effort to smooth his shirt down as he opened the door, glowering only a little.

"Fine, fine, _happy_ now?" Sam was glad that Dean had made an effort – had listened – because the lights in the hotel were off – all but a desk light. At least there was no glare of light to halo his brother after opening the door to the bedroom part of the hotel room.

"Aw, Sam, you know I'm just _delighted_ to see your sorry face." Dean teased lightly, shoving a plate of still warm pizza into his hands.

"Shut it, Dean." Sam grumbled softly, not really meaning his words, eyeing it – smelling it – he hated to admit that even to himself, he was not _hungry_ for the offering of pizza in his hands. It just _did not_ appeal. Dean noticed his staring at it.

"Eat it – will you? You're the one that said to order it." Dean fidgeted a little nervously with his words; Sam had noticed that all his favorite toppings were present and accounted for. Sam knew it would be useless to comment on it – to thank Dean for that detail – all he really had to do was to take a bite. So he would.

"_Hmm_, pizza..." It appealed to him as much as raw sewage would. It was wrong – disgusting – it did _nothing_ to fill him. Despite himself, his expression gave him away.

"What's wrong?" Sam didn't want to say it. He didn't want to admit that food, maybe even liquids, didn't fuel him - …that his biology was _this_ changed. It worried him. Dean was right to have let him see that moment of terror as Sam – walking with a demon riding him – had stepped out of the circle as if it was nothing. For the most part, Ruby was silent – observing. Sam could handle that.

"It…tastes….a little off." Sam had made the mistake of glancing to see Dean's features – he hadn't intended to answer – now he knew he had to.

"It tasted fine to me." Dean admitted softly, eyes looking Sam up and down as if to really _see_ him to gain better insight.

"Forget it. I'm going to bed." Sam mumbled, careful this time not to look Dean in the face. He tried not to make a too big of a deal about putting the plate of pizza back next to the box. He'd only taken one bite. He felt as if he hadn't eaten anything all day. He remembered his earlier thoughts –he was starving – dying because he would not feed his _hunger_ – his need.

Sam didn't even know what _it_ was.

"Alright, sure, whatever you say…I'll be up for a few more hours, that alright with you?" Dean was being sarcastic – attempting to be aloof. Sam knew he was only glad that he'd managed to get Sam out of the bathroom –Sam would be sleeping in a proper bed where Dean could keep an eye on him. It was what Sam would do for Dean, if the situation was reversed.

"It's just _fine_, Dean."

It still didn't help that it was hellishly annoying.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Dean didn't know what to think. He wasn't sure where he stood. John had hammered it into his head at an early age – the lessons. There was no grey area. There was Dean – and there were those he was supposed to protect. Sam had been the first among those precious people he was to protect.

Dean wasn't letting him go now – just because Sam was something a _little more_ then human. He was _still_ Sam. He wasn't any more of a stranger then when Dean had first found him, tucked in bed on a college campus. He was Dean's little brother.

Dean would still protect Sam; of that much he was bound and determined to do. It was what he had been raised to do. He wouldn't fail in that – he couldn't. It was too much a part of who Dean was.

Still, facts had to be faced; Sam was somehow part-demon (or a little more then "part"). Sam had – seemingly though sheer force of will – brought Dean back from death. Dean certainly felt alive, he was breathing, thinking, bleeding – even his flesh was healing from the nick of the knife he had given himself to check.

Now, after the fact, Sam was suffering. Dean _knew_ his little brother, when he was hiding things, when he was in pain and didn't want to show it. Dean knew. Sam would – if he knew how much his brother saw threw him – be horrified. Sometimes, Dean wondered if Sam didn't _already_ on some level know. Or if Sam had a way of reading Dean in the same way, Dean certainly wouldn't put it past Sam.

Dean knew that Sam was shaky – that his joints moved stiffly because of pain. That the bathroom had been darkened because of a headache; so far it wasn't any worse then a bad flu – or getting beaten around while on a hunt. Dean worried about it though. He worried that it might get worse.

He worried that, when all was said and done – if Sam would still be _Sam_ by the end of it. Dean glanced to his brother, he was curled toward Dean – his face was open, easy in his sleep. Dean was glad that Sam found some peace in sleep. Dean sighed and settled back in the chair – on the desk was a half a slice of pizza. The rest would be leftovers – Dean found he just wasn't hungry, worry for Sam had stolen his appetite.

He glanced again to Sam.

Half lidded silvery-brown eyes were watching him.

Dean tensed, his mind screaming one word; "_demon_".

He fought to stay still, to relax – he knew that Sam wasn't awake yet. He was still half asleep. Sam stirred a little, sitting up as if some present aroma had caught his attention, something shifted in the way that he was looking at Dean.

_Hungry_.

"Are you watching me while I sleep, Dean?" Maybe he'd been wrong on just how aware Sam was of his surroundings. Still, there was something tired – something hazy and not quite Sammy in those silvery brown eyes. Dean was aware – as if he was coming out of sleep himself – of movement. Sam was crawling toward him on hands and knees.

Sam was stretching up from the floor, his arms around Dean's neck. Gently he nuzzled Dean's cheek with his own – inhaling his scent at his neck. Dean wished his mind would work quicker. Things seemed only to slow down more and more. As if he was caught in a spider web. Or he was the deer in the headlights. Or, in some way, _prey_.

That thought did it – snapping some semblance of sense into his mind. He was thinking.

Speaking…

"Sammy, it isn't _like that_…"

His brothers tongue flicked over his lips, Sam tilted his head at Dean – watching him – smiling slowly – indulgent.

"Why _can't_ it be…if I want it…if we both want it….?"

Sam moved in closer, and Dean couldn't quite bring himself to move away quickly enough – Sam's lips, warm and demanding pressed against his. Dean tried to make some sound of protest, but Sam stole it away. Instead, breathless and numb and somehow hungry, Dean gave in, groaning a little as Sam flicked his tongue against the sides of his mouth.

Sam growled – possessive – and Dean felt teeth scrape against his lips, he tasted blood. He knew this was going wrong. He was as good as dead if Sam didn't slow down – didn't start thinking. Long fingers dug into his shirt, he felt his arms wrap around the bare skin of his brothers waist.

Dean heard fireworks.

They weren't in his head.

Bright reds and brilliant purples and greens arched into the sky, lighting up the darkened hotel room. Sam jerked away from him, sprawled on the hotel carpet – he looked adorable, puzzled – confused. His eyes were brown, and Dean nearly trembled with relief. Maybe he wouldn't remember. Sam glanced to him, and Dean saw them widen – saw his brother swallow, pale in the sudden multi-colored lights.

Then there was a tapping on the window.

Dean looked to the sound, rather then speaking to his brother, or let Sam have his chance to speak. His eyes narrowed, suspicious; to see someone – or rather _something_ – he wasn't quite surprised by; the Trickster was back to torment.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Note; what can I say? Um, it's been _so long_ that not only have I changed _my_ name from "AbeoUmbra" to "Abby Ebon"; that "BloodyChaosDragonKnight" has changed _her_ name to "Chaos Silk". Yeah, _that_ long.

Oops…? It's funny where time goes when you have the entire story plotted out and you've only got to sit and write the thing out. Very annoying that.


End file.
